Justice or Closure?
by L. Drayton
Summary: The Kira case stirs up old negative memories within L. Will living through the tribulations twice change his outlook on his childhood or even Kira? ON HIATUS.
1. Investigation

**Hey everyone! This is the first chapter of my latest work. In order for this story to function, some things have to be overlooked. It's not very canon but at the same time it's not AU. Um, you'll see what I mean if you stick with it. For the sake of the future of this fic, I will not list the allowances anywhere that they could be stumbled upon accidentally but I may post them as a separate chapter or something later if you request them.**

**Disclaimer on profile, but basically I don't own anything mentioned in this story at all. Ever. The characters? Not mine. The storyline? Probably not mine. The air they breathe? Not mine. That lollipop I mentioned? Not mine. (You get the jist.) Let's-a go!~  
- L. (Which is really strange because I've signed off like this since before I discovered DN...O.o)**

Standing in the doorway, he watched the sight unfold. Before the child sat his mother, hunched over the battered kitchen table as she wrote in a book. She was so submersed in the task she had assigned herself that she didn't notice her son. The news was blaring, producing an electronic illumination in the room.

"News just in, 32-year-old Yuki Sujihara has just died from another of the serial suicides. Police are enlisting the assistance of detectives and..."

Yuki? Ryuzaki knew this girl. She was a friend of his mother's who had recently been involved with an argument. He hadn't seen her in a while. His mother seemed unphased by the news, which surprised him a little: the two had been close, hadn't they? Interesting... What was she writing?

Looking at the paper of the notebook from his position in the doorway, the boy scanned his eyes over the page of writing and picked out the crucial damning evidence. There it was, written on the page: Yuki Sujihara, Suicide. She was killing people.

At a very tender age, Ryuzaki witnessed his mother becoming overcome by the power at her fingertips. His intelligence meant that he could look at the names on the page and link them to the recent murders on television and recently deceased people he had known. Now, he was almost used to the presence of the book.

Creeping away from the deranged scribbling of his spindly mother, he edged his way to the garden, making the usual journey to the shed which he had labelled long ago as home. There, he shut and locked the door and watched from his window as the silhouette of his mother continued writing. Hunched from the low roof, he sighed and placed a finger in his mouth. The simple fact was that somehow by writing in the book a name and a cause, said person will die. But how was that possible? Was the notebook just a way of messaging someone? For example, it could be possible that there was a camera watching the book and relaying the names to another person who was carrying out the murders. Ah, but that was ridiculous. Ryuzaki would have noticed a camera in the room.

Had he misinterpreted the data? Perhaps. Yet that was unlikely. All the facts added up, but to what precisely? What was happening before his eyes? Mass murder. Not exactly.

Trying to enhance his thought process, the boy took out a stolen lollipop and popped it in his mouth, drawing the curtains to the grubby plastic window and flicking on his own light. Ryuzaki crouched on the mattress which was his bed and thought hard by gathering the facts and trying to draw a conclusion from them. All he deduced was that he needed more data. Sucking on his lollipop, he lay awake planning his intervention.

When the boy was sure his mother had left the house to go to work the following day, he took the key from under the mat and crept in. She left the key for him everyday so he could come in when he wanted.

Ryuzaki's mother was a complicated specimen of parenthood. She simply could not tolerate her son. He reminded her of his father. That coupled with his freakish appearance and intelligence frightened her to no end. So she sent him to spend his nights in the shed in the garden (which she had kindly spent days ensuring was stable, warm, with functioning electricity and safe) away from her. His days could be passed wherever he pleased. One might be ignorant enough to suggest that this meant she hated her son, to that it must be responded that the statement is false. She was not abusive nor did she seek Ryuzaki's unhappiness, she simply didn't understand or relate to him. Which frightened her. The pair only saw each other purposely in the evening when there would be some words, a serving of food and then she would be gone.

Ryuzaki enjoyed this arrangement. His mother was neither funny nor clever and held little of his interest. She had a strange way of viewing life (even to him) and so neither wished to see too much of the other. They had a good relationship in that respect.

On the kitchen table was no sign of the book he had seen so many times, instead there lay a casual dirty plate from breakfast and an empty glass. It wasn't an unusual sight. So, Ryuzaki headed upstairs. In his mother's bedroom stood a vanity mirror, accompanied by some drawers. The wide array of different coloured glass bottles was almost oppressive, accompanied by the harsh smell of chemicals which they gave off, it was almost enough to make Ryuzaki turn away. He did not.

Taking the opportunity to enhance his deductive skills, the boy looked at the three drawers and decided which the book would be in. The first. The one furthest from her son's reach and the most logical spot. Quick access in case of an emergency. He crouched on a stool and opened the drawer delicately, seeing the black of the notebook within under some cosmetics. He won again.

Pulling the book out, he spent a moment reading the white words on the cover. Death Note, in English. Ryuzaki had English blood on his father's side and he much preferred the shores of that country to that of Japan: there was nothing he enjoyed here. The fact that he had to live in Japan was unavoidable for the time being, and he tried to look at it with positivity. Feeling his mind drifting, he opened the book to bring his attention back to the matter at hand.

On the inner cover was a strange and spidery white writing, one he struggled to read fluently. He picked out a few words he hoped were key and wasn't surprised to read 'death' and 'die' about five times and something about 'rules' which he assumed was what the list was focusing on. In the actual book was about two pages of writing: his mother's hand. That, he could read relatively well.

There were few names actually written on the paper, the words coverings the pages were mostly to do with the cause. There were exactly six names in total. Why hadn't she used it more? She had had it a good few months, Ryuzaki knew from his observations. Perhaps she had been scared of it. _Understandable_, he thought. Judging by the words and the unsettling relationship they had with the real cases of death he had heard, Ryuzaki quickly decided that this was real. You could actually kill someone just by writing their name. Although the idea seemed as ridiculous as any, the facts aligned, this was a legitimate artifact.

Hastily, he placed the book back. He was never superstitious or very easily scared, but this book terrified him. It had never been possible to kill a person just by writing their name before, so this must be something from outside of this realm. Therefore, despite the throbbing curiosity, he chose to stay away for a little while and handle the thing in bouts instead of the usual uninterrupted hours. It just seemed to be safer for some reason.

Back in his shed that night he looked out of his tiny window to see the silhouette of his mother coming in from work late. But that wasn't all. Behind her stood a huge, thin, monstrous being which the small boy counted himself lucky that he couldn't see better. It seemed to have some sort of horn/antler which accompanied its grotesque and disproportionate figure perfectly. The most noticeable thing about it was however, the fact that it was undeniably floating.

Ryuzaki watched his mother rustle and bustle about the kitchen, preparing food for her and her son. The son in question looked at his flat stomach as if the act had reminded him that he should be hungry. He shrugged off his lack of hunger after remembering the twenty three marshmallows he had eaten earlier that afternoon. Too young to actually cook anything (and too idle and uncaring about his own health to have any real food) the boy often ate sugary snacks throughout the day. His mother left them within his reach, knowing that sugar infused treats were the things her son liked best.

As a mother, she knew she had failed. She misunderstood how to parent her son. His quirks and stubbornness had resulted in her simply having a 'I-don't-care-do-what-you-like' attitude towards him. This suited the pair well, but in their hearts they knew it could not last forever. Both knew that truly, Ryuzaki's health couldn't hold under the circumstances and nor could either's state of mind. The youngster wouldn't fit in the cosy shed forever, and when he was forced out by size neither would know how to act. Yes, both mother and son understood this, but neither ever breached the subject. As awkward as their relationship was, there was still love, and it worked. They didn't wish to be separated.

Watching his mother and the thing from his window soon became boring and unentertaining for Ryuzaki, who therefore chose to sit on his mattress reading. After a while he heard the door of the house open and close, and footsteps treading over the gravelly path to his shed. The boy closed his book and looked expectantly at the door. _3, 2, 1... knock._

**That's that then! I feel like now you might understand what I mean about the 'liberties' that have to be taken in this story.A lot of this is not canon and to be honest, I kind of like it that way. I've been debating whether to post this for a while, but I've basically succumbed to my own personal peer pressure on myself and so that's how you're reading it now. See you next chapter hopefully! (Maybenotheywe'restillfriendsthoughright?)  
All my glove,  
-L.  
P.S Yes, I meant to write glove. I feel like 'love' is overrated, and gloves are unappreciated.**


	2. Clarification

**Hey, so this is actually still the first chapter of this fanfic. I decided to split the previously uploaded chapter into two smaller chapters so that I can keep the length consistent. Sorry if you expected a second chapter here, but that will be coming soon I assure you. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own not'in! Not not'in! Let's-a go!~  
-L. **

After opening the small wooden door for his mother, Ryuzaki took the plate of soup and bread from her with a 'thank you' and returned to his mattress. She smiled at him slightly and handed an object to him.

"What is this?" Ryuzaki asked.

"A blanket."

"I can see that. I merely meant to inquire as to the meaning of its presence," he clarified. Upon seeing his mother's confused expression he decided to rephrase his point by saying:

"Why have you brought it?"

"Oh, well the forecast says it's going to be a little chilly tonight," the woman responded. She then, as if to punctuate her point, brought her coat closer around her body and gave a smile to the youngster. He touched the electric heater and sighed when she realised it wasn't on, flicking the switch and turning it up to full.

"How cold?"

"Can't remember," she reported, truthfully.

"Pity," Ryuzaki muttered, glancing longingly at the self-invented mittens which were expected to retain warmth in the hands up to temperatures of -10 degrees. However they were yet to be tested and so had no solid evidence for their main selling point. They needed to be tested, and it seemed tonight would not be the night. However he could-

"Well, I'll leave you to your dinner," his mother interrupted, noticing the look on her son's face which denoted an internal onslaught of thoughts.

"Goodbye. See you tomorrow," Ryuzaki said hurriedly, desperate to return to his train of thought. Alas, it was already lost. Looking up at the woman he noticed the thing behind her mauling something which resembled a half eaten burger.

It was being quite loud, but the child wisely chose to pretend he didn't know it was there. It was a sickly grey-ish purple with horrid, sharp yellow-tinged teeth. There was a green tint to the one eye on its face, the only remaining one. It was obvious that there has at one point been two eyes: an empty socket which had scarred over sat happily on the other side of its face, calling out to be noticed.

The woman gave a slight ruffle to her son's hair. The boy flashed a smile at his mother who returned it and left, creature trailing after her.

"The human-world has such tasty meat," it said as it was entering the house again. Ryuzaki placed the tip of his index finger just in his mouth as he sat, pondering on what he'd just seen and what it could possibly mean. No creatures like that had ever been mentioned in the books he read or anything as such. It was an unusual case to say the least. What was going on?

When he came up with no answers, the sight of his mother writing and the creature eating bored him, and the dinner had been picked at a little, the boy collapsed down to rest. There, in a position similar to that of a starfish at rest, he suddenly thought of a question to answer the following day: why could he only see the creature that evening? Assuredly, the thing had been with his mother since she had been writing in the book, so why could he only see it that night? What had changed?

Distressed by the questions, the boy didn't sleep that night. Instead he distracted himself trying to guess the next words in the book he was reading by covering each with a finger. At three in the morning, he noticed the light in his shed go off and so finally decided to try and find some alternate source of entertainment, which proved difficult in the blackness, so Ryuzaki lay on the bed and thought, sucking relentlessly on a gumdrop.

When morning came, a loud slam of the car door signalled his mother's disappearance once again and a couple of flicks of the light switch indicated the power was back. After listening to the radio for about twenty minutes snuggled tightly in the thick blanket from his mother and the usual duvet (which had kept him considerably warm during the night) Ryuzaki decided to go in the house.

The key slid into the lock and opened the door. Slipping inside the house he never really claimed as his own, the boy went upstairs to use the bathroom and it's facilities before further investigation. It was an unspoken agreement that the boy could of course use the toilet and sink any time he wanted, but the shower required booking. It was just how they lived.

The book was there again. Why didn't she take it with her? _That's what I'd do_. He tried harder to read the white writing, but failed yet again. He thereby dubbed it unimportant and looked to see if there was any change in the book. There was, as he had expected. Now two and a half pages had been stuffed up with scribbles. She had been in a hurry to write names. Why now? Ryuzaki briefly wondered what would happen if the words were completely illegible. Momentarily tempted to write his own entry, he refrained. It could, after all, be an object which triggered immediate damnation. How was he to know?

One name caught his attention. It wasn't the name itself (some work colleague of her's), but the cause of death that interested the youngster. It was descriptive and macabre, and had a time specified as that day at precisely 1:27. Ryuzaki memorised the time perfectly and went down to watch television. It was Wednesday and so his mother wouldn't be returning until well into the evening. He was safe to do as he pleased until 1:27. So he relaxed shamelessly.

"Obviously 1549," he muttered as Anne Robinson asked a question which he could answer at last. The Weakest Link was particularly hard that day, only three questions actually presented themselves to the crouching child as answerable. Only two had he got right. English television wasn't too hard to find and the programs were familiar, so most of the time Ryuzaki watched the television from that country rather than the Japanese programs.

"1548?" answered a terrified looking man with ratty teeth and a coarse blonde moustache.

"Incorrect. The answer is 1549. Alan-"

"I told you!" Ryuzaki yelled happily. Make that three he'd got right.

After the programme had ended, he went to find some sugary sustenance and his mother's laptop. It was 11:43. Online he found nothing about 'Death Notes' but there was one website which was about Japanese legends. There he found something intriguing: Shinigamis.

From the brief and poorly written description, it took only a few moments for Ryuzaki to deduce that he had in fact, seen such a creature. It wasn't going to cause his mother to commit suicide was it? Doubtful. It was more likely that the religion had it wrong and that Shinigami were more interested in death in general. Ryuzaki quickly decided that he wouldn't be picky if he wanted to watch some people die, then he shrugged the macabre thought off.

When lunchtime came the boy walked out to his shed to scavenge for sugar. His mother had left some marshmallows on the side, but he'd felt the need for something a little more solid. Happily sucking on a red and green lollipop he had saved from Christmas, Ryuzaki nestled himself in front of the television and flicked up the local news. They were very good at covering useless things that went on in his area, but if that woman was going to die at the time and in the way that was written, it would certainly be on.

He waited for the time to come, absentmindedly watching the report on plastic bags in the trees as he waited. 1:23. 1:24. 1:25. 1:26. 1:27. Five minutes later, the report flashed up.

"We interrupt this report with the news of a suicide unlike the others. The victim, 29-year-old Susan Pollock killed her fiancé then proceeded to hang herself. The following may be disturbing to some viewers," a voice hurriedly relayed. There was no control on the words and the female was obviously uncomfortable. Ryuzaki leaned towards the screen, careful not to miss any details.

A clip was shown of the unfortunate woman's body being shoved into the doors of an ambulance, her fiancé covered in a bag and placed into another vehicle. This is exactly what was written in the notebook… except…

"This is truly an unex- gah!"

_Unbelievable. _Ryuzaki watched the man reporting the scene collapse onto the floor a writhe in pain. The camera was dropped as the man who had been holding it rushed to help. The boy stared, fascinated. Then he snapped out of his trance-like state and ran up the stairs to read the entry:

_Susan Pollock, suicide, 1:27pm. After leaving work early at 1:03, she returns home to her fiancé where the two talk and watch television. The man suspects nothing out of the ordinary. When he leaves to get a drink at 1:15 she brings out a gun and shoots him in the head seven times. This will attract the neighbours. They decide to investigate at 1:29, by which time she is already dead by hanging. The man reporting the scene at 1:33 will die of a heart attack._

Sucking on the lollipop, Ryuzaki thought about what he had just witnessed. It took him a long time to regain his senses after realization hit him.

**So that's the end of chapter 1/2 depending on what time you're joining us here. I feel like it works a little better as two chapters ever though the end of the last one and the beginning of this chapter are a little fragmented and a weird place to split a chapter. Anyways, love you all even if you're not still here. Have a good day/night~  
-L.  
**


	3. Conversation

**'Sup guys? So here is the next installment with actually new material for y'all! I updated because I really want to get this thing going t good places and it may take a couple of chapters to cover the time I need to so we need to get cracking! Yeah! I'm pretty pumped for what's going to happen later on, hope you're the same ;)**

**Replies:**  
**Guest: I love you. :)**  
**High on the Rainbow: Thank you, shug. You're support is touching :3**

**Disclaimer: Do you think there's anyone who actually says 'I own everything in this story all of it is mine don't touch' because I certainly don't. Because it's not true. And lying is against the rules of the tenth dimension.  
Let's-a go~  
-L.**

The wind blew delicately through the black garden, swishing the leaves of trees over the bright light of the window. Ryuzaki sighed in frustration at the obstruction and placed a finger in his mouth. He had been watching his mother and the shinigami for approximately two hours, and the creature had noticed. It was now staring straight at him, body outlined against the kitchen lights. Although the shinigami was unaware that it could be seen, the boy had walked into a staring contest of sorts, and he wondered how long the monster would wait before he alerted his mother of the watching eyes.

After a lot of deliberation on the topic of the creature, Ryuzaki had in fact clarified the reason for his previous blindness: he had not touched the notebook. Accepting that he was dealing with the supernatural, the young boy only thought on what made sense to him, and not science. This whole situation was unbelievable and against most of the laws he had grown up respecting. He turned to the still warm dinner of sausages and vegetables and closed his curtain.

He picked mindlessly at the meal. Eating a few mouthfuls he winced and took out a lollipop instead (his mother had brought home a whole tub that day from work).

As the young boy grew tired he lay down to rest, mindful of the gravity of the situation he was facing. He was certainly out of his comfort zone, but he was now in the realm of the interesting and unexplained: the place he'd always wanted to be, and yet feared at the same time. Pondering on the matter as he had been doing for considerably too much time in his opinion, he was interrupted by a voice:

"I thought I'd let myself in seeing as you won't invite me." For a split second, Ryuzaki's blood ran cold. He froze his body and focused solely on a spot on the ceiling, desperate to ignore the creature which he knew was standing beside him. If he looked at it, it would be real.

"I saw you staring earlier so I thought I'd come and introduce myself. I'm Ary." _Don't look at it, Ryuzaki, _the boy demanded to himself as he snapped his eyes shut. _Don't make it anymore real than it is now. _Things were moving too quickly. He had not expected to actually speak with the shinigami that night.

"Won't you introduce yourself? I find that very rude," the thing spoke again. Its voice was like a million spiders and it skittered about the room. "At least look into my eyes when I am speaking."

"I think you mean _eye," _Ryuzaki shot back. His heart skipped a thousand beats as his mind registered what he was saying. He was being rude to a God of Death! That couldn't end well. He'd-

"You humans are so amusing. I find it very fun to speak with you."

The young boy cracked open his eyelids, curiosity finally winning over his internal battle. There it stood, incredibly close with a sickening smile which could either portray amusement or hatred. It hovered slightly above the ground and bent over with arms hanging loose. Ryuzaki stared into its one eye fearlessly.

"Were you in need of anything? Because I have things to be getting on with, thank you," he muttered, sounding surprisingly confident and unfazed. Inside his head was reeling at the impossibility of this whole situation, but on the outside he could still show the nonchalance he always did. It was a talent.

"We both know that's not true, kid. What could you possibly have to do that's more interesting than talking with me?"

"Interesting? That's hardly the word I would use to describe this conversation so far, Shinigami."

"Ary," the creature corrected with a light confusion laced into his words. This child was acting so calm, so cool about the fact that he was being confronted by a God of Death. Ary felt some respect bubble up in his core. No humans had ever adressed him like this.

"Very well, if you so wish to be addressed as such."

"And... you are?"

"I don't feel that introducing myself to a complete stranger (who also happens to be a deadly aparition) is a good idea. Names are not to be thrown about," Ryuzaki declared. His voice was bland and showed his feigned lack of interest well. Of course he was interested by the conversation! How often does this opportunity arise? Although Ryuzaki felt

"Wise of you, Ryuzaki." A smirk was shown on the shinigami's face as it spoke, and the raven could see it saying _one_ _point to Ary, _in its head. In response to this smugness, the child rolled his eyes with irritation.

"As I suspected." The shinigami raised an eyebrow. "Well, I assumed you'd know my name. As you probably know every person's name. I suppose it appears to you above their heads or something similar. It's necessary for the job to know their names if you kill as Mother does: with that book." _Point to Ryuzaki. _

"Very clever. I am impressed," he nodded to himself as he lay down on the air leisurely, "I wonder if you know anymore on this topic. Please, continue."

"Fine. I believe that by writing a person's name in the book you can murder them, with room for some details if you please. To know the name you either have to know them, or see it somewhere or be a shinigami-"

"Or have the eyes," Ary interrupted. His eye was glistening with the rising entertainment and Ryuzaki had mixed emotions over whether he was proud of himself for this, or ashamed. The child commanded an explanation. "Well, if your mother for example wanted to know a random person's name, she could make the deal for the shinigami eyes and see as we do. Then she could discover the name by looking at a person and write it in the Death Note." A pause. "Why have you gone silent, kid? I'm enjoying this discussion."

"The risk I face now... has risen by twelve percent," he shared slowly and deliberately. He looked at the floor pointedly. He had spoken the truth: he was more at risk now that people and gods alike could see his name and kill him at any moment. _Is protection an option? A spell or something?_ A while ago he would have scoffed at the idea, but there was a shinigami in his shed telling him how humans can kill with the weapons of its kind which shattered all faith the raven had in physics being law.

"A spell? Don't be stupid, kid. That won't work, well unless it's from a shinigami, but we can't lengthen lives: we're all about death and stuff."

"Then how do I- oh, don't bother yourself. Although I do have a question before we digress."

"Which is?"

"Do you know when I am to die?"

"... yes." Ary did indeed know when Ryuzaki was going to die. He saw the date written above the child's head as clear as usual, and for all his usual heartlessness, the shinigami felt slightly emotional at the revelation of the date: he hadn't looked at it properly before.

"When?" Ryuzaki pressed. This information could prove to be extremely beneficial. If he knew he was to die in fifty years or ten, he could plan his life out better. That would be perfect for his ambition to make a mark on the world.

"I can't tell you: it's against the law," the shinigami explained. Ryuzaki rolled his eyes and huffed, muttering something about a stupid god. "It's not my fault!"

"On the contrary, it is completely your fault. Why don't you just break this one tiny rule? No-one has to know!" The boy cringed at how childish he sounded, but it was necessary due to the information at stake. Here, as he was waiting for a response, the boy thought a little on the matter he was facing. _I'm trying to get this shinigami to tell me when I'm going to die so I can use the information to plan out my life better, but what I really want is protection from any shinigami or human with the eyes. That's what's important. _Ryuzaki examined the creature's contorted face. _He's conflicted. I should intervene and tell what I really need. _"Don't bother, Shiniga- Um, Ary. I have a different request to ask."

A sigh. Then, "which is?"

"I want to be protected from any Death Note user, be it human or god," he replied calmly.

"There's absolutely no way I can do that, kid. Your date's already been set and I can't change it."

"Another of those pathetic laws?" Ary smirked.

"Listen, I like you, but if I attempt to lengthen your life it won't have happy consequences for me. May I suggest, however, that you simply change your name," the thing spoke softly. He was unsure if this counted as breaking the rules or not. Surely if it wasn't direct it was fine. Right?

"Using an alias? An idea, certainly. I shall consider it, thank you," Ryuzaki decided. Then he changed the subject slightly: "My mother was unfortunate to find the weapon."

"Unfortunate? Do you not believe she was chosen? Most do."

After a long conversation over the workings of fate and destiny over humans, Ary felt his mind melt at the child's precociousness. He could barely keep up with the logical patterns and counter-argument he had for every comment Ary made. Eventually, the shinigami raised his hands in defeat claiming aloud that he was giving in. Ryuzaki chuckled a little and stifled a yawn, causing Ary to smirk.

"Tired, kid?"

"Of course not. I don't get tired," he defied, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the accusation. They spoke a little longer on the topic of meat, and then Ary left. He claimed to be bored of the conversation and Ryuzaki let him leave.

That night the child had had an encounter with a shinigami. He didn't know it then, but the words he'd chosen to say would shape the future for him. For better or for worse.

**Imagine I wrote a whole closing AN that's like three paragraphs long.  
See you next time or somewhere else or something! :)**


	4. Suppression

**Chapter 4 for you! I dunno, I kinda liked this one. I really feel sorry for both of them. They had a descent thing going, but will that carry on after this? The little thing Ryuzaki and Ary have arranged will become apparent in the next chapter (which might have a time skip, not too sure yet). **

**Replies:**

**High on a Rainbow: Thank you for your encouraging comments and support. I had no idea I did that with Ary's name! Whoops! Thanks for pointing that out, now I can rectify it. I'm glad you like his character and he may be back in the next chapter or a little later on depending on whether I do a time skip or not. The surname isn't Lawliet at the moment because of what L and Ary have arranged (it's probably pretty obvious now). I hope you like this chapter, Rainbow-chan. **

**Disclaimer: still don't own.**  
**Let's-a-go!**  
**~L.**

For days after the encounter with the shinigmai, Ryuzaki spent his time thinking on where to go with the matter of his safety. Never before had he worried over his own life (being a child there was little to panic about) and he was once again in the realm of the unknown. After that fateful conversation with Ary, Ryuzaki knew what he had to do to stay alive. He and the shinigami formulated a plan which would eliminate two of the boy's problems at once (well, two and a half) and waited for a time to put the plan into action.

The boy knew when it was to be when his mother began loosing her sanity. Fired from work because of unknown reasons, she now spent most of her time in the house. Ryuzaki could hear her shouting at Ary occasionally and crashing about the place. He supposed it was natural: she's an inexperienced murderer, after all, the pressure's probably just about getting to her. No longer should she need to panic over that. _I'm doing her a favour._

"Kitiru does believe that this is the best track he has releases since-"

Listening to the local news on his radio, Ryuzaki noticed nothing which could relate to his mother. The notebook's default method of murder was a heart-attack, and she hadn't killed nearly enough people to raise an eyebrow in the police force. If she decided to start killing on mass without varying her techniques, then it is possible she would begin to be tracked. The boy shivered. A murderer was living less that twenty feet from him, and no-one except himself knew.

"That's right, John. This fire started at-" Ryuzaki flicked off the radio, annoyed. He noticed his mother sitting with her head being supported by her hands at the kitchen table. Something stirred within the young boy and he got to his feet to leave the confines of his shed and approach the house.

When he reached the kitchen doorway, Ryuzaki started to have second thoughts. Could he really do this? He heard the murderer sniff and clenched his fists in determination: it was simply now or never. He reminded himself to feel nothing, and entered the room. _No emotion. _

"Mother," he spoke out, boldly. The woman ignored him, so he strode in front of her and spoke again. That time, she raised her head.

Mascara smeared down her face and trickled down the chin. Her eyes were bloodshot and raw, and there was blood on her forehead and in the straight black hair from her own nails. The woman sniffed quietly.

"I do not agree with this."

"Agree with what?" she asked, voice verging on a sneer. It was not a malicious question, however, just one that showed annoyance.

"Your murders."

"What?" The woman feigned ignorance poorly and Ryuzaki stood unmoving. His face held no emotions as Ary chuckled somewhere off to his left. A light breeze entered the kitchen through an open window, spiking the boy's hair.

"I can't live being the only one to know of your deeds, Murderer," he whispered into the air. The worlds tapped against his mother's ears like silent knocks on a deadwood door. Her eyes glazed over. "So I am going to turn you in."

There was a pregnant pause as even Ary stopped laughing. The only sound was the gentle collision of tears on wooden kitchen table.

"I've let you down." The woman cried out, more of the salt-filled tears rolling down her blackened cheeks. "I only ever wanted what's best for you, but you have always been so different! Not like other children. How was I supposed to be a mother when I had no way of understanding you?" Ryuzaki bit on his bottom lip. _No emotions. _

"This isn't about your parenting."

"I have to... have to tell you that I'm sorry, Ryuzaki," she whimpered weakly, ignoring him. The boy tasted blood, but wished it away. This was harder than he'd wanted it to be.

"I can't forgive a murderer...but I can forgive my mother."

"What are you saying?"

"Change," Ryuzaki pleaded. _No emotion. _"Just get rid of the notebook and we can go back to how it was."

"Nothing will ever be the same. I've killed and I have blood on my hands. I've ruined your childhood and I have that on my conscience. We can never have that life back, and you wouldn't want it anyway."

"Blood washes off and childhood fades!" _Why are you lying? Why are you saying things you don't believe? No emotion: it's clouding your mind._

"I have to tell you that I'm proud of you." She stood. It was then that Ryuzaki noticed the open notebook at the kitchen table. He knew what would come, and as ready as he thought he'd been, he didn't want to lose his mother. She was a murderer and she neglected him, but she was the only family he had.

"No, I _want_ to tell you that I'm proud of you," she said as she crouched to his level. Ryuzaki felt one solitary oval of wetness on his face and wanted to scream. She was making this so hard! How dare she make him feel _now_.

"And I _am_ telling you that unless you get rid of it, I'm turning you in!" Ryuzaki yelled. She placed a hand to his cheek.

"It is too late: I have stained my hands. I have to continue now I've begun."

"No you don't! No-one has to know!" The boy stepped back so the hand of his mother fell into empty space. She let her hair fall in front of her face as she stared at the floor.

"Don't make me do this."

Ryuzaki closed his eyes. He had hoped beyond hope that perhaps she wouldn't be like this. That she would put his life before hers as most mothers would. But no. He never got his way.

The two stood in silence.

"Ryuzaki Akitu..." she whispered, breaking the silence. Tears now streaming down the boys face, he listened to his full name one last time. _No emotion. _"I love you."

Ryuzaki looked up at Ary who was silently watching behind him, he gave a curt nod to the creature who responded with a slight bow of the head.

"But I have to do this," she voiced.

"I understand, as do I."

With that, the boy left the house. He glanced at the closed door behind him for a moment before returning to the shed. Lying on his mattress, Ryuzaki sucked relentlessly on a gumdrop but that night not even the sugar could whisk away the salty taste of sadness on his tongue.


End file.
